


Cast Your Fate to the Wind

by a_loquita



Series: Cast Your Fate to the Wind [1]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_loquita/pseuds/a_loquita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horses! Bandits! Saloons! It's SG-1 in the 1890's where O'Neill is a sheriff in a small Colorado town, and things get interesting when Jacob Carter and his daughter move there from Washington DC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Indian Summer

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thank you to mrspollifax for her beta work and support.

**Indian Summer**

Our tale begins in Colorado, in a rural town that most visitors would consider indistinguishable from any other. It has a saloon, a general store, and a new bank that everyone has been talking about. There's a blacksmith, a doctor, a sheriff, and plenty of farmers and miners. But things here are about to change, and it all begins with the arrival of two new residents.

 _September 14, 1891_

In Jack O'Neill's mind, he had a competition going between the number of people he'd seen and the number of clouds in the sky. So far, it was a pretty low-scoring game. The heat, he supposed, was to blame for keeping people from moving about in town much. And the lack of clouds in the sky, well, they were partially to blame for the heat.

Jack leaned against the frame of the entrance to Teal'c's blacksmith shop. It was the perfect location to keep an eye on the people passing on the main street and still be able to carry on a conversation with his friend. Even if it was mostly a one-way conversation. The shaded spot also allowed Jack to feel what little breeze there was in contrast to the heat from both the sun and the smithy forge.

"I hear there's a new bank opening."

No response from Teal'c.

Yeah, come to think of it, Jack wasn't all that interested in that particular topic either. One subject was sure to pique the interest of the big guy, being that he felt a certain kinship with those who had fewer freedoms, but Jack had been reluctant to bring it up the last few days. Might as well get it over with.

"Some government man from the Department of the Interior is supposed to show up and keep an eye on the Indian reservation to the south. Probably send reports back to Washington, or something."

At this, Teal'c's head turned from his work for the first time in over an hour. "Should you not inform Mr. Daniel Jackson of this news?"

"Oh, believe me, Daniel knows. He's been at the train station every day after school for the last week waiting to greet the man."

"Do you anticipate any problems, O'Neill?"

"When Daniel's involved, I always anticipate problems. Thing is, you never know what kind and when it'll happen." Jack twisted his lips into an ironic smile. "Part of Daniel's charm."

Teal'c set down the tools he'd been using to fashion a horseshoe. He opened his mouth about to say something when Jack put his hand up, halting further conversation. Then he made a signal and Teal'c stepped over to the doorway to see what Jack had observed on the street. A woman in full skirts, hat, and delicate leather boots was walking beside the very man they'd been discussing during the last few minutes.

Jack said, "Looks like Daniel made a friend."

"Indeed."

* * *

Two hours later, Jack went over to pick up some for nails for Teal'c. In the back aisle of Siler's General Store, he stopped moving when he heard a familiar voice respond to one that was not at all familiar and distinctly feminine.

"I suppose I should drop my card at the homes of all the important ladies in town. If I delay too long, it might be taken the wrong way."

"Ah, well, that," Daniel replied. "Not too many people around here have calling cards."

There was a long silence. Jack imagined the woman was stunned by this news and couldn't figure out what to say next. He was so absorbed by the situation that he didn't realized he'd been inching forward to catch their next words; thus, he tripped on a box, knocking it over in grand style and alerting everyone in the General Store to his presence.

"Hey, Siler," Jack called to the proprietor, "watch where you stack these things, will ya?"

"Sorry, Colonel." The tall, lanky man grabbed a broom.

"Jack," Daniel rounded the corner and his new lady friend was right beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Jack changed the subject. "Who's your friend?"

"Forgive me. This is Miss Samantha Carter. Her father works for the Department of the Interior, and they've just arrived from Washington. Mr. Carter asked me to show her around town."

"Miss," Jack tipped his head.

Daniel explained to Sam, "Colonel O'Neill is retired from the Army, and about 6 years ago the town elected him sheriff."

Sam offered the colonel her hand. "I'm very happy to meet the man that keeps the peace."

"Most of the time," Daniel added, under his breath.

"Daniel." The warning in the colonel's voice was clear, apparently even to Sam.

"It appears you have a loyal following, Colonel."

Was that humor? Honesty? Teasing? Jack dropped his gaze from hers rather abruptly.

At that moment, someone burst into the General Store shouting, "Colonel! Colonel, come quick!"

Sam and Daniel were right behind Jack when they came upon a group of people gathered on the street outside the saloon clapping and cheering. Jack shoved his way between them but stopped when he got a good look at the two men fighting. One was much larger and landed several blows to the smaller man's face.

"Aren't you going to stop them, Colonel?" Sam asked when she noticed Jack pause to watch.

"In a minute."

She blinked at him. "What kind of sheriff are you? If you don't step in, that man could be seriously hurt."

"Likely so."

She huffed her indignation and pushed her way between the spectators into the ring they'd formed.

"Stop!" She attempted to step between the large man's fists and his intended target. "Stop it immediately!"

"Oh, for cryin'…" Jack grumbled at being forced to intercede. He grabbed Sam's arm and dragged her aside. There was a flare of something in her eyes, and as annoyed as he was at her, that flare still had a funny effect on him, but he had more important things to deal with at the moment.

"OK, boys, break it up." Jack took hold of the larger man, twisting his arm behind his back and up until man howled in pain. "Enough."

Sam bent down to the man in the dirt, and examined blood coming from several cuts on his face. "I can help," she said softly, hoping to calm and ease. "I have some cream that can be applied to these."

"I'm fine, Miss," the man replied as he stood and brushed himself off.

Daniel appeared at Sam's side. "That was very brave of you, Miss Carter."

"I may be a lady," she gave her new friend a smile, "but I think there's a lot about me that will surprise you, Mr. Jackson."

Jack turned the culprit over to his deputy and lingered on the scene watching the as the crowd dissipated. He also observed Miss Carter and Daniel. This lady was unlike anything he'd ever encountered, all full of manners and polish on the outside, but fascinating on the inside in ways he hadn't expected. Not to mention she wasn't bad to look at. Not bad at all.

No wonder Daniel was interested in her.

A man standing to Jack's right whistled low under his breath. "Mighty fine lookin' lady."

"Don't you have telegrams to be sending or receiving, Henry?"

But Henry ignored the grouchiness in the colonel's tone. "Shame she don't seem to like you much."

"Henry."

"What? It ain't a crime to look, Sheriff."

* * *

 _September 15, 1891_

Maya had just set the pot of tea on the table when Jacob Carter entered the dinning room.

Sam looked up from her breakfast, "Morning, Father."

"Sam," he smiled, "sleep well in your new room?"

"It's strange. It's almost too quiet here."

Maya poured Jacob a cup of tea as he sampled his eggs. "Too quiet?" Jacob spoke between bites. "I'm afraid you've lived in the city for far too long. Perhaps this move is good for us in unforeseen ways."

"Yes, perhaps." But in her heart, Sam didn't believe that to be true. On the one hand, she was proud that her father had achieved his promotion at work. But in all other aspects, their life had taken turns she was not happy with.

Sam missed assisting at her grandfather's clinic three times a week. She missed her friends back in Washington, especially Vala, who never thought Sam's hobbies were odd or her future plans inappropriate for a proper woman of society.

She missed Lady Langford, who had taken on the young Samantha as an unofficial daughter when Sam's mother died in childbirth with Sam's little brother. Lady Langford made sure that when Sam needed new dresses, Jacob paid for them. When a new ball was announced, she'd convinced Jacob to allow Sam to attend with herself as chaperone of course. She'd told Sam all about the subtle ways of catching a man's eye, even if Sam found the whole discussion more amusing than useful.

Sam missed it all but was not going to mention a word of it to her father. He deserved the promotion, even if it came with a move to Colorado and leaving the life they'd known behind.

Maya entered the room again, this time to introduce a guest. Never having been someone who stood on ceremony, Jacob went to the parlor to fetch Mr. Jackson and invite him into the less formal rooms of the house.

"Mr. Jackson, have a seat." Jacob offered, as they entered the dinning room. "Would you like some coffee, tea, or breakfast?"

"Thank you, coffee would be wonderful."

Sam lay down her fork as an idea formed in her mind. "Father, may I accompany you and Mr. Jackson to the reservation?"

Jacob seemed startled. "I would have thought you'd want to get started on your garden?"

"I do," Sam replied. "But I can start tomorrow. I'd like to come along."

"Mr. Jackson, do you mind?"

Daniel gave Sam a smile. "Not at all. She made for pleasant company yesterday, I'm positive that today would be no different."

* * *

The sun was high; only a few clouds lingered in the eastern sky. It was a beautiful day, and Sam was forced to admit that Colorado had a few things going for it. The mountains in the distance stood like cathedral walls. The tall grass swayed in the breeze, and the children ran through the settlement playing a rambunctious game until an adult scolded them to play quietly. It all lifted Sam's spirits.

Daniel and her father spent most of the morning in talks with men that Sam assumed were the elders of the various Indian tribes. As Sam understood it, the main issue was that several tribes had been moved to the same location; a few of them were once enemies. The government was seen as not considering such issues. In the past, Sam felt the government had made mistakes in handling the Indian wars. But she also saw in her father a strong belief that despite the past, peace could be achieved.

She looked away from the meeting taking place among the men. The half-finished sketch in the notebook open on her lap couldn't maintain her attention either. Something about the mountains and the trees made her want to daydream like she used to as a child. It was silly, there were plenty of constructive things she could be doing, including the fact that Mr. Jackson had promised to introduce her to a medicine man.

Sam was so caught in the tangle of her thoughts that she didn't hear anyone approach.

"Nice day. Not too many of these warm ones left in the year."

Though the sun behind him made a halo that blinded her a little, she could make out the brown-turning-gray hair and the jaw line of Colonel O'Neill.

"May I join you?" he asked.

"Of course."

He lowered himself to the quilt she'd spread on the grass. For a few moments, she'd thought he might say nothing further, just sit and look out at the landscape before them.

"What are you doing here, Miss Carter?"

"I could ask you the same, sir."

"You could." He picked at blades of grass. "But I'm the sheriff and I'm used to askin' the questions and folks answering them."

"Well, allow me to add this to the list of ways in which I'm not impressed by your skills as sheriff."

A strange expression she couldn't read appeared for a second before he schooled it away. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought it was some kind of amusement with her, but that couldn't be right.

"You're still angry about yesterday," Jack finally said.

"What happened to the man that was hurting the other?"

"I put Mr. Davis— that was the man throwing the punches— up in my guest room overnight to sober up. Gave him a stern talking to in the morning and then let him go."

"That's it?" Sam was flustered.

"That's it." Jack twisted two blades of grass between his fingers and glanced at her. "You never answered my question."

"I came with my father and Mr. Jackson."

"I can see that, but why? Why would a lady like you be interested in spending time in the company of a bunch of natives? Most are afraid of them."

"I'm not."

"Not a lady, or not afraid?"

She gave him a look that could make any child quiver in fear of punishment.

"The latter."

"Of course." Jack stood and brushed bits of grass from his pants. "Well, I've got some very inadequate sheriffing to do. You have a nice day, Miss."

O'Neill started to turn, but stopped. "You never asked me about the other man."

"I examined his cuts, which were not deep, and I assume he has some bruising but otherwise he seemed all right."

"He is. He's also sitting in my jail cell, being that day before yesterday he tried to take advantage of Mr. Davis' wife."

Sam could only manage a weak, "Oh," in response, but the colonel never heard it. He was already halfway across the field.


	2. Indian Summer

_September 30, 1891_

Sam looked up from her work transplanting white sage into new pots. One of the only advantages that she was willing to admit in regards to the move to Colorado was the increase in space the Carter homestead now had. Her greenhouse here was more than twice the size of the one she'd had at their former home, and with more acreage now, she would be able to plant a much larger kitchen garden in the spring. Two very small things— the garden and the greenhouse— but they seemed to be about the only promise of bringing her joy these days.

The sun was low on the horizon and she still hadn't heard her father return for the evening. Curious, but not concerned, Sam set down her clippers and took off her garden gloves.

Exiting the greenhouse to cross the yard, the wind picked up for a moment and blew around her skirt. Then it died back down suddenly. Sam didn't like that omen. Not that she believed Lady Langford's superstitions and tales, but despite Sam's scientific arguments against, they still had the ability to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Entering the summer kitchen, Sam found Maya at the stove and asked her, "Have you seen my father?"

"Not since this morning, Miss Samantha."

"He was supposed to be home by now."

Sam exited the other side, and crossed the stone steps to the back door of the house. She called out, checking the study, parlor, and other rooms on the first floor. She even checked upstairs to see if he was changing his clothes due to the dust of the road.

Perhaps he was only delayed, Sam tried telling herself. It was the perfect opportunity for her to get another hour of work in before the evening meal. She still hadn't found time to harvest the herbs necessary for a batch of her grandfather's secret ointment for rheumatism; the winter months were coming and it would be handy.

More than two hours later, Sam was becoming concerned, and she abandoned her work for a second time. She mounted her horse and headed south along the road, hoping to encounter her father and his wagon. She'd been warning him that the right front wheel needed some work, but Jacob was reluctant to let his daughter do man's work. He insisted that one of these days he'd take it into town for repairs or get one of the farmhands to tend to it.

As stars awoke in the sky, Sam found the wagon but no broken wheel, axel, or other obvious sign that explained why her father might have pulled over to the side of the road, or why Jacob was nowhere to be found. In addition, his pouch was missing, though several crates remained in the back of the wagon. Sam turned her horse, Chester, toward town and urged him to gallop as fast as he could.

The shops were closed, but the saloon was in full swing. Sam stopped her horse at the sheriff's office and tied Chester to a post. Knocking on the door, she got no response, so she went around the side of the building to the entrance of the colonel's private residence. Knocking harder and calling his name produced nothing.

Growing increasingly desperate, she hurried down the street and entered the saloon. Some of the merriment died down at the sight of a lady in an establishment where the only females present were those offering services.

Deputy Mitchell stood and quickly made his way to her. "Miss Carter, you shouldn't—"

"My father is missing and I can't find the sheriff."

"OK, let's go outside." He turned, "Lorne, get O'Neill."

As she was shuffled outside by Mitchell, Sam caught sight of Lorne heading to the back rooms of the saloon. She was a lady, and might not be received in such a place, but she knew enough to know what happened in the back rooms of a saloon.

Anger and embarrassment burned on her cheeks. Why, she had no idea. The colonel was a single man. One who had become an acquaintance over these last several weeks, even so, she still had no right to judge him.

"When did you last see General Carter?"

Mitchell's question startled Sam for a moment. She was unused to hearing her father's rank used. He'd retired from the military at the end of the Civil War, settled down with a wife, and taken the job the government had given him as thanks for his service. It was another two years before Sam came along.

"He— he was supposed to be home hours ago." Sam swallowed; now that the adrenaline was wearing off, emotion was threatening to overtake her. "I went to try to find him on the road and—"

The rest of the story was cut short by the appearance of Colonel O'Neill and Deputy Lorne.

"Miss Carter," Jack asked, "what's going on?"

Mitchell answered for her, "Miss Carter says her father's missing. She went to look for him and can't find him."

"I found his wagon on the side of the road miles from home."

Jack's eyes took on a hard stare, one that Sam had never seen before over the weeks she'd slowly gotten to know the colonel. Every time she believed she'd begun to get a handle on this man, he went and surprised her with something new and curious.

Jack placed his hand on her upper arm and spoke quietly, both gestures Sam knew were meant to be reassuring. But there was an edge to his words. "Did he have anything valuable on him?"

"Some money." Sam's voice shook despite her intention to remain in control, at least until she was alone and could cry in privacy. "Do you think he could have been robbed? Kidnapped?"

"Wouldn't be the first time around here." At Jack's words, Sam caught Mitchell and Lorne exchanging a look. There was a beat, where the deputies waited and something inside Jack seemed to turn, as if the man was pushed aside and the duty took over. "Lorne, I want you to go inside and find every man that's half sober. Mitchell, round up horses, torches, and rifles."

Jack left his men to follow orders and headed down the main street, opposite the direction of the sheriff's office. Sam hurried to follow. "Where are you going?"

"Wake up Teal'c."

"I want to join in the search party."

"No." He banged on the front door of the Blacksmith shop. "T, get up," he shouted.

"I'm going along," Sam repeated, not swayed by the colonel's demeanor.

"I said no."

Teal'c appeared, wearing nightclothes and blinking his eyes. Jack said, "Get your things, I need your help."

A crowd was now gathering in the street in front of the saloon. Jack approached, Sam on his heels, and began calling out instructions.

"I'm going," Sam insisted for the third time. "It's my father, and I'm going."

Jack turned on her, flickers of anger in his eyes. "I do not need to be worrying over a lady while I'm trying to search for a band of kidnappers."

"I have a fine horse, and I can keep up. I am not sitting home waiting and doing nothing to help."

Jack opened his mouth to shout at her, but Sam leaned into him close and spoke softly but sternly. "I am not one of your men. I cannot be ordered around, and I will not simply say 'Yes, sir' in response to your every command. I will go alone, or I will go with one your search parties. Your choice."

"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth. Then he turned to the group. "Lorne, take your brother and cousins; head to the east. Teal'c, Daniel, Miss Carter, you're with me. Mitchell, you take the rest and head northwest."

* * *

 _October 1, 1891_

Daniel was practically falling asleep atop his horse, and though he rode nearly every day, it was never for this long. His backside was sure to be sore for the next 48 hours. Not that he minded if it resulted in finding Jacob Carter, or in the least, any sign or clue. But it hadn't.

Arriving in town, the dawn broke and along with it, clouds that threatened rain appeared on the horizon. Sam argued, insisting that they continue to search, but Jack was having none of it.

Turned out, Jack was right; it was useful they'd reconvened with the other search parties. None had found Jacob, but Lorne's team brought back with them a witness. He claimed to have seen Indians bind and blindfold Jacob before taking him off into the woods.

Jack sighed heavily.

"It couldn't have been," Daniel asserted. "I was probably thieves dressed as Indians to throw us off."

"Yeah, Daniel, I know." Jack scrubbed a hand over his face. "Still, I think that you, Teal'c, and Lorne should head south to the reservation and talk with Yellow Feather."

"Jack—"

"Just check it out, Daniel." The colonel's tone was adamant in nature. "Find out what time Jacob left the reservation yesterday and anything else that might help."

"I'll go also." Miss Carter was wearing on Jack. She was a lady, and a man had no right to hit a lady, but she was doing everything that forced him to continually remind himself of that fact.

"Miss Carter, I will escort you home."

"But—"

"I will escort you home, and you will go through your father's papers to see if there's some other explanation for this. No arguments, no exceptions, no questions. I will tie you to my horse and gag your incessant mouth if I have to."

There was stunned silence from the men gathered in the sheriff's office. None but Daniel had ever heard Jack lose his temper in such a way before. Daniel had only known it to have happened once, many years ago, and the circumstances of the last 12 hours were so eerily reminiscent that Daniel was surprised Jack had held it together thus far.

"Jack," he stepped over.

"It's fine, Daniel," Sam held up her hand. "I will do as the colonel requests, and you should, too. Go speak to Yellow Feather."

The ride from town to the Carter homestead— both of them on their own horse— was quiet. Sam felt tired, angry, but most of all, was reluctantly beginning to recognize that the colonel had a good idea. She also didn't believe Indians were to blame for the attack on her father. They had ample opportunity every other day when he visited the reservation; why would they do something along the road when he was only miles from home? And why target someone who was working to help them, not do them harm?

She doubted there was anything in her father's study that might explain what had happened, but it was worth a try. It didn't excuse Jack O'Neill for treating her like an errant 4-year-old, however.

They entered the house to find a frightened and worried Maya. Sam took time to explain what had happened and to calm down Maya from believing that not only Mr. Carter, but now Miss Carter, too, were both dead and dismembered.

* * *

Jack sat in the study on the other side of the room from Sam, who was steadily going through her father's papers and desk drawers. Hours passed, Maya slipped in to provide food and coffee, and slipped out just as quietly.

"Colonel."

Jack was drifting in the sky, as if he were a bird seeing the world from above, the tops of trees, the people and animals tiny dots on the land.

"Colonel."

Miss Carter's voice was strong as she glided next to him, teasing him to go faster. He didn't want her to fly away, and he tried to reach out but couldn't grasp her. "Wait."

"Colonel, wake up. I think I have something."

Jack blinked. "What?" He rubbed his eyes and began to place where he was. The Carter house. In the study.

It was starless black outside the windows. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked, sitting up straighter and noticing Sam's exhausted but intense eyes. "How long have you been working?"

"I think I found something." She pushed a set of papers in front of him, but nothing on the pages made sense.

"What is it?"

"I have no idea. There are mathematical calculations here, but also words that I don't understand, perhaps in a different language."

"So?"

"So, I need Daniel's help."

"I'm not leaving you here alone while I get Mr. Jackson, if that's what you're asking. Someone's got your father, and you could be next." Jack pushed himself out of the chair and stretched. "Get Maya and bring the papers. I'm taking you both to Teal'c's."

* * *

 _October 2, 1891_

"Seven?" Jack asked.

"Seven men," Daniel confirmed. "The mission directives and background reports are written in code, but it's clear once I deciphered it."

Lorne leaned back in his chair. Mitchell and Teal'c were also present to hear Miss Carter and Mr. Jackson's findings.

Sam broke into the narrative at this point. "It seems that in addition to his official post as liaison between Indian tribes and the federal government, my father was also here secretly to identify the men wanted for war crimes, and once identified, coordinate some sort of simultaneous arrest. The fear was that if he caught one or two, the rest of the gang would flee and the government would have to start all over."

"Jacob kept saying he wanted to set up a private meeting with me," Jack said wearily. "I didn't think it was anything important, and I kept putting it off."

"Colonel," Sam said, "it's not your fault. He's my father, and even I didn't know."

"Yeah." Jack stood and crossed to the window. It was the kind of day where the fog hung in the valley between the mountains, never giving a sign of lifting.

Daniel continued the briefing, discussing the details of the men, their habits, movements, what was known of their past, and the crimes they'd supposedly committed in the south during the War.

Jack tuned it out. It all cut too close, many of the words the same as those said in the days that Sara went missing, up until they found her cold body. As with this case, there were more questions than answers, but Jack knew one thing for sure; if he wasn't already dead, Jacob was running out of time.

"Colonel." Sam found him in Teal'c's kitchen leaning against the counter, recently having splashed his face with water from the pump. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine."

She handed him a towel.

"Thanks." He wiped his face and threw the towel down. "I want you and Daniel to make a list of every person Mr. Carter has spent time with in the last month. My men will interview them."

"You think the criminals my father was after got to him first?"

"It's possible one of them found out why he was here."

"If so, they have no reason to keep him alive."

Even with strands of hair coming loose from her braid and lines of exhaustion on her face, Sam looked better than most people would after two nights without sleep. Of course, she started out more beautiful than anyone Jack had ever seen, so it made sense that even at her worst he couldn't help but be in awe of her.

Jack shook his head, reminding himself again that she clearly had a connection with Daniel and for all Jack knew, Daniel might be courting her. He had no right to think of another man's woman in such terms, let alone a friend's.

"Get some rest, Miss Carter. We'll do everything we can to find your father and bring him home."

* * *

 _October 9, 1891_

"You should go home and rest, Sam."

"And in your medical opinion, what exactly will that accomplish?" Sam replied, instantly regretting the tone in which her words came out. "Sorry, Janet, I just…"

"I understand." Janet Frasier set down the box containing new supplies that they'd been unpacking.

The clinic had been busy all week, with the first freeze came a round of colds and one little boy who'd slipped and broken his arm. Any other time, nurse Janet and her husband, Dr. Harry Frasier, were grateful for Sam's long hours assisting at the clinic. But as a friend, Janet was worried about Sam, and she reached out, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Are you sleeping? I could give you something."

"I'm fine. Sitting at home waiting is not… I need to keep busy, keep working, it seems to help." Sam crossed the room, away from Janet's comfort, and began putting away gauze and needles in their appropriate cabinets.

"I hear the colonel stationed men at your house at night."

"Teal'c or one of the deputies. Colonel O'Neill also wanted someone following me around all day but we… compromised."

"You mean you argued."

"Discussed."

Janet smiled. "Back in my day, we called it flirting."

Sam rolled her eyes. "First of all, you're not that much older than I am. And second, it's not like that between us."

"No? Then how about Mr. Jackson?"

"He and I are friends."

"Doc!" Mitchell dashed inside the clinic. "Hurry."

Janet replied, "He's in his office doing accounts. I'll get him."

"Miss Carter, you'd better come along too, they found your father."

* * *

 _October 10, 1891_

It was close to a decade since the last time Jack had ridden a horse with a woman practically in his lap, her back against his chest, his arms on either side keeping her steady while his hands worked the reins. He never believed it would happen again after Sara, but when it came time to bring Miss Carter home after a long night assisting in her father's surgery, Jack couldn't bring himself to order Mitchell or Teal'c, and certainly not Daniel, to bring the exhausted woman home.

Without a second thought, Jack swung her up onto his own horse, climbed on behind her, and rode off before anyone said a word to him. Only after did he consider that he might be tarnishing her reputation. Tomorrow, he'd make his rounds in town, slipping into conversation that he was only doing his duty, protecting the people of the town. After all, Jacob Carter had been found, but his kidnappers were still at large. Escorting Jacob's daughter home was part of the job.

He hoped no one pointed out that he could have borrowed a wagon from someone and done it in a more appropriate manner.

As they rode, Jack was absolutely not noticing the weight of her when she leaned back against his chest, her head lolling to the side, almost resting on his shoulder. Nor did he note the subtle scent of lavender in her hair, not quite masked by the scents of the clinic. No, he didn't notice any of it. He was only doing his duty.

Jack signaled the horse to slow and stop at the front porch of the Carter house. He dismounted and Miss Carter nearly toppled off the horse from the loss of support by Jack's body. He put his hands at her waist.

"Miss Carter, you're home." Jack lifted her off the saddle, and she slid down next to him, half-asleep on her feet. "Let's get you inside."

With one arm around her, he helped her into the house. From there, Maya took over assisting her lady to the rooms upstairs, and Jack assumed, straight into bed.

He sank into a chair in the parlor, head in his hands. The Doc had exited the surgery room just past three in the morning and reported to the crowd gathered waiting for news that the patient was now stable. Jacob had made it, barely. The next 24 hours would be critical.

It was Janet that felt Sam should go home to her own bedroom and rest. The nurse whispered to Jack that Sam already hadn't been sleeping or eating all week, and the long night had drained the last of what Sam had in reserve energy.

Maya came down the stairs and through the pocket doors to where Jack was sitting. "Sir, she is asleep."

"That's good."

"How is Mr. Carter?"

"He's stable and the Doctor thinks he'll be fine."

Maya folded her hands and sent some silent prayer up. Then she nodded to Jack, "There is a guest room through there."

"Thanks." Jack stood. "And I'll take a brandy, if you have it. Maybe two."


	3. The Fall of Daniel Jackson

**Part 3: The Fall of Daniel Jackson**

 _October 31, 1891_

It was the perfect Halloween night, complete with a near-full moon, wisps of low-hanging clouds, and a temperature that was cool enough to enjoy a bonfire, but not cold enough that children must wear coats over their costumes.

A fairy princess and a black bat passed Daniel on the street, shouting, "Happy Halloween, Mr. Jackson," as they ran by him.

Daniel held himself back from reminding the black bat—otherwise known as Tom Garner—that his paper was due Monday and there would be no additional extensions. But the school teacher in him vowed to take a night off.

He approached Samantha Carter who was helping her father down from their wagon.

Upon seeing him, Sam requested, "Daniel, would you be kind enough to assist us?"

"I don't need help, Sam," came the comment from Jacob.

Sam shot Daniel a look. One that spoke of desperation, and also the irony that Jacob lived only to drive his daughter close enough to killing him.

"I've got it," Daniel said to Sam, taking her place in assisting Jacob down from the wagon. "You can mange the chair?"

Sam nodded, and by the time Daniel got Jacob on the ground, Sam was there with the wheelchair.

"I don't need this contraption."

"Father, you've only just begun to walk again. You can't overdo it tonight and set yourself back. Dr. and Mrs. Frasier will be here; what do you think they'll say if they see you without the assistance of the wheelchair?"

"They'll compliment me on my progress."

"They'll say your daughter is mean and horrible for forcing you to walk so extensively before you're ready."

"Right then," Daniel interrupted before the debate escalated any further. "Why don't I do the honors?" He took hold of the handles and pushed Jacob into the town hall.

Inside, candles, pumpkins, and drawings done by Daniel's students decorated the hall for the annual Halloween Dance. The musicians were warming up their instruments, and a side table overflowed with desserts and goodies contributed by everyone in town.

The Frasiers greeted the Carters and Mr. Jackson. Harry Frasier insisted on taking Jacob over to their table and shooed Sam and Daniel to go mingle. Sam gave in only because she needed to add Maya's pecan pie and popcorn balls to the table of treats.

"So, the grumpiness I assume is a good sign of healing?" Daniel teased Sam.

"He's the most stubborn man I've ever known."

"And you're not one to back down either."

"Poor Maya, putting up with us both. I think I'll have to give her a raise."

Through all of it, Sam was thankful that money was not a worry. Her father's pension from the Army and a wealthy inheritance from her grandfather on her mother's side ensured that the Carters would always live a comfortable life.

They could concentrate on what mattered most.

Jacob's memory had returned slowly, although those first few days when Jacob did not even recognize his own daughter would surely haunt Sam's nightmares for years to come. But as the swelling in his face diminished, his cognition returned. All but the events of the week he went missing eventually became clear to him again.

Jacob's right eye had suffered permanent damage, a reduction of at least 50% in vision. His right leg and knee required several surgeries to reconstruct, and although he never would win a footrace, Dr. Frasier was certain that with time and therapy, Jacob would be able to walk normal distances and go about his life without wheelchair or cane. Between Dr. Fraser's careful eye, Janet's assisting with rehabilitation, and Sam's own herbal remedies, Jacob was recovering nicely.

Sam and Daniel stood near the sweets table and watched the first few waltzes and reels. Sam hadn't made up her mind what to expect from her first dance in Colorado, after having attended some of the finest balls in Washington.

Back home, Sam was given dresses in the latest fashion, she was taught all the proper dance steps, and was well practiced in the art of casual conversation. But despite that, she'd never felt that she entirely fit in among the circles of high society. It was a secret she'd kept from everyone she loved, out of fear that her father might feel guilt, or Lady Langford might feel she'd not done enough, or Vala would giggle at her.

Over the last week, Sam wondered if she once again would feel like she didn't quite belong. But as Halloween night went on, and Sam spent time with the Frasiers, danced with Daniel and even Deputy Mitchell, she found herself enjoying it more than any ball she'd ever attended. Not that this place was home, but it was becoming comfortable.

The dancing continued, and Sam slipped out the back to get some air. She wasn't surprised that Daniel joined her after a moment.

"I didn't see the colonel tonight," Sam said. "I suppose he must be on duty."

"No." Daniel dropped his eyes to the ground. "No, he wouldn't be here."

"Why?"

"Something happened long ago on Halloween and… he'd rather be alone."

"What happened?"

Daniel shifted his feet. "It's not really my place."

Sam instantly felt sorry for putting her friend in the position of being torn between two alliances. "I understand. I didn't mean to push."

Daniel sighed. "He's probably at the cemetery."

Sam stifled a laugh. "Well, it's an appropriate place to celebrate the holiday."

"No, Sam…" She felt his expression was begging something of her, be she wasn't sure what it was. "Someone is buried there that he…" Daniel closed his eyes. "Let's just say that Jack O'Neill vowed long ago never to marry again."

"Oh my God," Sam gasped at the implication. "Poor man."

"It was devastating." There was a pause. "I'll check on him later, make sure he gets home."

"You're a good friend, Daniel."

"Don't tell anyone," he teased, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

An hour later, Daniel found Jack in the exact spot he predicted. In Jack's hand was a half-empty bottle, and silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he sat next to Sara O'Neill's grave. Like most years, he didn't say much as Daniel got him to his feet and shuffled him home. But he did say, "All over again, it happened all over again…"

Daniel replied, "No, Jack. This time, you found Jacob alive. You found him before the kidnappers killed him."

"Luck," Jack slurred. "Only dumb luck."

"It wasn't luck, and you know it. You worked day and night interviewing witnesses and searching." Daniel helped his friend into bed. "You brought a father home to his daughter. You did good, and Sara would be proud."

* * *

 _November 10, 1891_

Pots of boiling water sat on the stove, while every surface in the summer kitchen was covered with jars and supplies, not to mention fruits, vegetables, jellies, and jams. It was the final day of their fall canning, and starting tomorrow, they would move back into the kitchen in the main house for the winter. Sam was thankful this messy chore was almost over.

Janet presently was in the parlor working with Jacob on his exercises, and Sam had yet to hear much shouting coming from the main house, so she assumed the session was going well.

There was a knock on the door, Daniel stepped inside the summer kitchen, took one look at the operation, and thought twice about his reason for being here.

"You're busy," he said to Sam.

"Is there something you needed?"

"No, I… school's out early today and I thought I'd take a ride down to the reservation. I was going to ask if you'd like to come along, but I didn't think—"

"It's very kind of you to ask, but we're busy today."

"Miss Samantha," Maya timidly interrupted. "We're almost done. I can finish up on my own."

Any other time, Sam would have kissed Maya in thanks. However, the last few weeks Sam had been avoiding Daniel. It was silly, but Janet got the idea stuck in Sam's head and she simply couldn't get it out, no matter how much logic she tried to apply.

The culprit herself chose that moment to enter. "Mr. Jackson," Janet was all smiles. "How nice to see you."

"Mrs. Frasier."

"And what brings you here for a visit?"

Sam didn't miss the look Janet was giving her.

Daniel replied, "I was hoping Miss Carter would accompany me to the reservation, but she's obviously got her hands full."

"Nonsense," Janet said. "I'll be here a while longer with Mr. Carter and I'm sure Maya has everything under control in here."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Really?" Daniel sounded hopeful. Much too much for Sam's comfort.

"Go on, Sam, " Janet nudged her friend.

"Great. Wonderful." Sam plastered a smile on her face. But once Daniel turned around to open the door, she shot Janet an irritated look.

On the road, Sam didn't say much, and it didn't take long for Daniel to pick up on it. Typically, they had long lively conversations about history, botany, politics, and sometimes simple town gossip.

"Sam, is there something wrong?"

"Oh," Sam pulled her eyes from the grove they were passing. The leaves had changed colors weeks ago, and now they were dropping from the trees at a steady rate. "No, I…" She searched for something she could use to explain her mood, and keep his questions at bay. "It's still difficult to leave my father, even in the capable hands of Mrs. Frasier."

"I'm sure that's natural."

"Yes, I'm sure it is."

Daniel eyed her. "And that's the only thing bothering you?"

"What else could there be? I am indebted to you for getting me out of another dreadful day of canning."

Daniel chuckled. "Glad to be of service."

Another half a mile passed before Daniel spoke up again, this time his tone dramatically changed. "Actually, I must admit, I stole you away for my own selfish purposes."

"You did?" Sam couldn't help the squeak in her voice, her throat had closed up.

So Janet was right after all, Daniel was interested in courting her and the next words out of his mouth would surely end their friendship tragically. All because Sam couldn't reciprocate. She had spent the last week denying every word out of Janet's mouth, while clandestinely trying to come up with a way to let Daniel down. No matter which way she imagined it, no matter what words she chose, it was destined to hurt Daniel and ruin their friendship forever.

Tears sprung to Sam's eyes. He was her first friend since moving here, and she adored him in so many ways. But just not in that one way that mattered most. And because of that flaw in her, the part that never found the idea of settling down with any man appealing, she was now about to hurt her dear friend.

"Daniel, please." She would reduce herself to begging if necessary. "I think it's best if you said nothing further."

"Sam?" He pulled on the reins, stopping the horses in the middle of the road. "There is something wrong. Tell me?"

"It's just… I value your friendship so very much…"

"And I value yours. That's why I wanted you to come along…"

She spoke over his words, "Please don't say it…"

"…So you can be the first to learn my secret. I'm in love."

"Oh, Daniel."

"Her name is Willow Song, and she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I know it will be complicated, but I love her."

"You…?" Sam's mind was racing to catch up with her ears. "What?"

"I understand your concerns for me. As a friend, I would expect nothing less than your warnings of the cultural differences and how that might complicate our courtship and… But Sam, once you meet her, I know you will like her."

"I will?" She took a deep breath. "I mean, I will."

Daniel gave Sam the biggest grin. "I have no parents or siblings, but you and your father have become close friends and I'd like your blessing."

There were too many emotions swirling inside Sam to make sense of them all. Relief, astonishment that she could have gotten things so very wrong, a strong feeling of wanting to bash Janet over the head at the next opportunity, and above all, happiness. Daniel was in love with an Indian and he wanted Sam to be the first to meet the woman he loved. They were friends, the best kind.

Sam returned his smile. "I'm honored to meet her, Daniel, and I know she and I will get along delightfully."

"Then let's go," he cracked the reins and the horses started up again.

* * *

 _November 24, 1891_

Sam and Jacob returned from the Thanksgiving play in the town square with several guests for supper. The colonel and Teal'c had nowhere else to go. Deputy Mitchell's family lived a great distance away, and the Frasiers of course were happy to join the party.

In the kitchen, Sam assisted Maya checking on the food. The pies Maya baked the night before waited in the pantry. They'd mashed the potatoes that morning, currently in a pot on the stove furthest from the fire, keeping ready. The warming shelf contained freshly baked bread, Sam's glazed apples, and corn.

Opening the door to the oven, Sam saw that the turkey was just starting to brown on top and the stuffing inside was almost done. "What's left, Maya?" she asked.

"I thought I'd put on some coffee for Colonel O'Neill."

"Good, and I wanted to bring up a couple of bottles of wine from the cellar."

"Sam," Janet entered, "is there anything I can help with?"

"I think we're nearly ready," Sam replied as she opened the back door and Janet followed her out. "Mr. Jackson is not here yet but when he arrives we'll eat."

There was no reaction from Janet upon the mention of Daniel's name, having been given a stern talking to by Sam the week before for the trouble caused. And come to think of it, Sam had yet to do any bashing, she still felt justified.

"Everything smells wonderful. Did Maya make her famous pies?"

"All three kinds." They descended the stairs to the sandy floor of the cellar.

"Listen, Sam," Janet pulled her close as if they were in a crowded room. "I have some news."

Sam wanted to roll her eyes; this was exactly how the whole Daniel fiasco had begun. "What is it this time?"

"I'm…" Janet's face broke into a grin. "We have a baby coming by spring."

"Really?" So, perhaps the bashing should wait, thought Sam with a giggle. She pulled her friend into a hug. "That's wonderful news, Janet."

After a few minutes of women-talk, Sam finally got the bottles of wine and they ascended the steps to rejoin the group inside the house.

The moment Sam walked into the kitchen, the silence startled her. Maya was laying out food on the table, making trip after trip between the dinning room and the kitchen. Beyond, the parlor could have been empty of visitors if Sam hadn't known better.

"Maya, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Mr. Jackson arrived."

"Why is everyone so quiet?"

"Perhaps because he didn't arrive alone, Miss Samantha."

Janet threw Sam a questioning look, and though Sam knew the answer, it wasn't her place. Both women scurried into the other room.

"I have papers," the native woman said in broken English, holding out what Sam knew were the day passes that Indians must carry with them in order to leave the reservation.

The colonel nodded. "Welcome."

The woman seemed relieved and glanced at Daniel. He smiled reassuringly at her. "Mr. Carter, I hope it is all right that I brought Willow Song with me."

"Of course," Jacob responded, then bellowed out, "Maya, Sam, set another seat at the table."

"I'm right here, Father, there's no need to shout." Sam crossed the room and smiled at Willow Song. "It's good to see you again."

As Daniel had anticipated, introducing the two previously helped Willow Song recognize at least one familiar face in the crowd the first time she accompanied Daniel off the reservation. He was thankful all over again for the favor Sam had done for him several weeks ago.

The food was wonderful, and the conversation covered more than a dozen topics. After the meal was finished, Maya, along with Janet's help, cleared the table, while the men moved into the parlor for after-dinner whiskey and coffee.

Sam took a moment to step outside with Willow Song. From the porch, Sam pointed out the fields and horses, the barn, greenhouse, and the smokehouse. She spoke of her about her plans for the garden in the spring. Willow Song shared details of a few plants she might help Sam gather in the woods near the reservation.

The colonel interrupted, "Sorry."

"Colonel, Willow Song was just telling me the spots that I might find bitterroot."

"Fascinating." He cleared his throat. "Mr. Jackson was lookin' for her inside."

Willow Song bowed her head slightly to Sam and the colonel, then she went back indoors.

"Her English is improving at a fast pace," Sam said as the colonel stepped closer joining her at the railing of the porch.

"Plenty of lessons from the school teacher, I'm sure." There was a touch of something in his voice that bothered Sam.

"You don't approve?"

"Oh, I…" Jack looked at her carefully. "Daniel can do what he wants. So long as he doesn't hurt someone else in the process."

"Who?"

Jack turned toward the view of the land. "I was under the impression Daniel was courting you."

Sam chuckled. "I can assure you, that was never the case."

"You're on a first name basis with him. And rather quickly after meeting him."

"Is that all it takes these days? A first name basis, and the rumors begin spreading?"

"Daniel sometimes doesn't think things through before he says or does something. He doesn't realize what the consequences could be."

Sam took pity on the Colonel. After all, he was attempting to be a friend; perhaps earlier he even considered, for a moment, the idea of defending her honor.

"Colonel, I appreciate your concern. It's very kind." She expressed what she hoped was her sweetest smile. "When I first arrived, I was lonely and missing my friends from home. I made Daniel swear that he and I would pretend we had always been friends. That we'd grown up together, had called each other by our Christian names since childhood, we had attended school together, and he'd once put a frog down the back of my dress."

The colonel glanced sideways at her, "A frog?"

"It was just a small one."

"Ah." He nodded and stood straight. "And now?"

"Now?"

"Are you still lonely, sad, and missing home?"

She regarded him for a moment, and though she was mildly surprised at the answer that rose up inside her, she could honestly say, "Not anymore."


	4. Winter Isolation

**Part 4: Winter Isolation**

 _December 6, 1891_

Jacob and Sam sat in front of the wood-burning stove in the sitting room. The snow falling outside the windows buffered them from any sounds beyond the words Sam was reading aloud, the latest letter from Lady Langford entertaining them as always.

" _In addition, Colonel Reynolds and his wife — Jacob will remember the Reynolds family well; the colonel's father was in the infantry during the War Between the States— bore another child last week, another girl. I can say that the Reynolds' are quite happy with the addition but I suspect that the Colonel still wishes for a boy. Perhaps come next Christmas they shall be so blessed."_

Sam paused, then commented, "Not if Mrs. Reynolds has anything to say about it."

"Samantha." The scolding was difficult to consider completely sincere, given it was accompanied by an amused twist up at the corners of Jacob's lips.

"Sorry." She returned to the letter.

" _Mrs. Harrison is pushing ahead with modernizing the White House and had electric lights installed. My friend, Mrs. Louisa Anthony, was invited to lunch with the First Lady a few weeks ago and reports the lights are a lovely improvement. I will say no more on the subject, for you both are aware of my opinions regarding the current President."_

Sam chuckled, "She must be running out of ink. I can think of no other explanation for why Lady Langford would hold back on this occasion, when she hasn't on any other."

"Nevertheless, go on, Sam."

" _Last night I was in the company of the Donahue's. Miss Mal Doran was there of course, on the arm of a young man I had the pleasure to meet for the first time. He is the third son of Mr. and Mrs. Butler, but I am sure you'll get a letter from Vala soon telling you all about him. Oh, my dear Samantha, you missed the loveliest of winter balls. Last year I told you that cream lace we saw in the window at Charlton's would be all the fashion, and as usual, I was correct. Mrs. Donahue's daughter, Lila, wore it over a blue muslin—"_

"Sam, " Jacob interrupted. "If she goes on for three pages about what everyone wore, you can read the rest to yourself in your own time."

Sam smiled, "Yes, Father."

There was a knock at the door, and both glanced at each other in concern. In this, the third days of heavy snows, they did not expect any visitors.

"Perhaps someone on the road encountered trouble traveling any further for the night," Sam said, as she stood to answer the door.

"First check through the window to see."

"Of course," she replied absently, pulling back the curtain to peer out in the dark. "It's the colonel."

Sam opened it and swirls of flakes entered ahead of Jack. "Mind if I come in for a moment?"

"Of course."

She moved to light the stove in the parlor, but the colonel insisted, "Don't bother just for my sake."

"Go warm yourself by the fire in the sitting room," she said with a smile. "I'll get you a brandy."

Sam could hear the men talking as she retreated to the kitchen to get the colonel a drink. When she returned with a generous pour of brandy in hand, Colonel O'Neill had removed his coat, gloves, and hat, and had taken the seat across from Jacob. For an instant, Sam had a strange reaction to the sight of the colonel in such an informal room of the house, on this sort of night, as if he were a member of the family. But she let it go just as quickly as it had come.

The talk was of the weather, and any guesses as to when it might let up. Jack reported the town was quiet, including the clinic and saloon. He passed along news from Janet to Sam that Janet continued to feel healthy.

"Things are…" Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Progressing normally."

Sam smiled. "That is good news."

After almost an hour had passed in pleasant conversation, Jack got up and put his coat back on. "Thanks for the drink, Jacob. If there's anything you need…"

Jacob began to push himself up out of the chair slowly. Jack protested, "Please, that's not necessary, Miss Carter can see me to the door."

The men shook hands. "Thank you for stopping by, Colonel."

At the door, Sam handed the colonel his hat. "It was kind of you to come, I'm sure my father appreciated it more than he expressed."

"I wanted to see you."

"You did?" she asked brightly, a little surprised.

"I— well," Jack looked away from her widening eyes. "I mean, to check on you. Make sure that you'd come through the weather unharmed."

"Oh, right, of course. Doing your duty to the citizens."

Jack ignored the comment, unwilling to let on that theirs was the only citizen check he'd intended on making. "You have enough wood?"

"We are fine, thank you."

"Good, then."

Sam smiled. "You might want to check young Mr. Sheppard's place a quarter of a mile down the road. He lives alone, you know."

"I will. It was next on my list." Internally Jack was groaning. Now he'd have to make one more stop before going home in this weather, all due to the off-chance that she might ask her neighbor about a visit from the sheriff. "Have a good night, Miss Carter."

"Goodnight, Colonel."

Sam re-entered the sitting room to find her father, not returned to his book as she expected, but rather staring off. His face was soft and sad in a way.

"Father?"

He looked up, as if he hadn't heard her walk into the room. "Did you see the colonel off?"

"I did."

"Strange that he would make the effort to come out in this weather."

"He's checking on everyone, making his rounds."

Jacob seemed to be searching her face for something. "He's a good man, Samantha."

"That he is."

"Sam." He took a deep breath. "I've always promised you I wouldn't interfere. But I must state that he would make a good husband. Forgive me; a father gets up in age and he wants to see his daughter will be well taken care of."

Sam smiled and nearly laughed. "You will live a good many years too come, plenty of time to nag me. On this, and on many other topics." Then she returned to her sewing, something she disliked as much as canning, but no one had yet to invent socks that darned themselves.

She admired the colonel's dedication to his duty, and the fact that she and her father were on the list of those he thought to check on during the bad weather had been very kind indeed. In fact, she was disturbed now when she thought back to her opinion of him in the beginning, it had been so wrong. It didn't seem fair that she'd not seen his true nature, and to think that such a kind man should suffer the pain of loss in his life.

Sam offered her father an afterthought. "Besides, Daniel says that after the colonel's wife died, he vowed to never marry again."

"Men say things in grief that change with the passage of time."

"You never remarried."

Jacob firmly responded, "That's different."

"How is it different?" Sam finished one sock and reached for another. "Perhaps you and the colonel have more in common than you realize."

* * *

A few hours later, as Jacob lay in bed, his thoughts kept him from going sleep right away. He didn't know what had come over him tonight, attempting that sort of conversation with his daughter. He wondered, not for the first time, if leaving everything to Lady Langford after Sam's mother had died was the best idea. Lady

Langford had married and buried three men in her lifetime, after all.

He didn't know how to begin to explain to Sam that even having lost her mother and their days-old infant son, he would go back and do it all over again if given the chance. The time he had with his wife was cut short, but at least he'd had it. Never experiencing falling in love, never sharing his life with his wife, not being blessed with such a wonderful daughter, it was unthinkable. Those were worth taking every chance in life; it was even worth the pain.

Jacob sighed in regret. Why, of all his traits, must he have passed on his stubbornness to his daughter? When would she learn that there was more to life than her narrow-minded vision of it? And where was Lady Langford when he needed her to explain it all to Sam?

* * *

 _December 24, 1891_

Sam finished writing in her diary, then closed it and set it aside. Her father had retired for the night over an hour ago, Sam couldn't blame him; she wasn't much company tonight. Not sad exactly, more reflective. It had been many months now since they left Washington behind and it seemed that tonight was a good night to reflect.

The snows had continued and forced the decision that Sam and Jacob would spend the holiday alone together, their new friends in town doing the same, staying in their homes and not risking travel. In some ways, Sam was glad to have her father all to herself. Back in Washington Christmastime was a blur of parties, shopping, visits, outings, and Sam often felt that she never sat in one place for longer than five minutes. It would make for a nice change this year to have a quiet holiday.

Sam used the tongs to pull the brick out that had been in the fire. She placed the brick on a towel, wrapped it, and tested that it wasn't too hot to carry. It wasn't, so tucked in her arm, she carried it up the stairs.

Once in her room, Sam slid the brick under the blankets at the foot of her bed. She changed into her nightgown and took the pins out of her hair, brushing it and then weaving it into a long braid. She turned off the oil lamp, in perfect timing with a particularly strong gust outside that rattled her bedroom window.

Under the blankets, Sam shivered and shifted to get comfortable. The brick at the bottom of the bed warmed her toes; it was one of her favorite and most comforting feelings. Nothing was better than warm toes on a cold, snowy, winter night.

She wondered what it might be like to have the warmth from that brick multiplied by the six-foot frame of a man lying next to her, keeping the length of her body warm. The thought shocked Sam into sitting up. How could she even imagine such a thing? It was so unlike her. Vala, on the other hand, imagined such things all the time.

That was likely it, Sam reasoned while lying back down. She'd not had a letter from Vala in several weeks, and that, being on her mind, tricked her into thinking as her friend did. It certainly was not because Sam wished for a man to keep her warm at night. That was nonsense.

Sam rolled over and readjusted the blankets. Maybe because of her wayward thoughts already this evening, or perhaps for no good reason at all, a conversation with Lady Langford came to mind quite suddenly. Something that Sam hadn't thought about in years, but at the time, made quite an impression.

Sam couldn't have been more than 12 or 13 when Lady Langford had a few too many glasses of wine at a dinner party. On the way home in the carriage, she began to tell Sam about courtship and marriage; much of it Sam had already been told. And then Lady Langford added a few details Sam was sure only came about because of the lip-loosening power of wine.

Lady Langford spoke of how, one day, Sam would be expected to do her wifely duty to her husband. And although Sam nowadays felt Lady Langford was quite vague in her descriptions (not that she was interested in knowing more detail) at the time it was quite enough to panic 13-year-old Sam.

Sam declared that evening in that carriage that she shall never marry. Lady Langford laughed at great length, then promised that Sam would change her mind. "Samantha, my darling girl, one day you will find him. And when you find him, you will know. A future with him is not at all a frightening thought; in fact, you will hardly be able to wait, so happy you will be to begin a life with him."

Sam smiled at the memory. And her final thought, before drifting to sleep on Christmas Eve, was that perhaps Lady Langford wasn't all wrong, maybe it all wouldn't be as scary as she once thought, if it were done with the right person, someone she deeply trusted.

Sam doubted she'd ever find someone like that, but if so, possibly marriage wouldn't be so awful. Perhaps.


	5. The Holding Patterns of Birds

**Part 5: The Holding Patterns of Birds**

 _January 2, 1892_

If asked about it by one of his deputies, Colonel O'Neill would say that the lack of any break in Jacob Carter's kidnapping case was the reason for his restlessness these last few weeks. And it wouldn't have been a total lie. Months had passed since the day Sheldon Murphy went for a walk on the edge of his property and found Jacob tied to a tree and nearly beaten to death.

There'd been no word from the kidnappers, no further attempts on Jacob or Miss Carter's life, and not a single clue had surfaced in the last few months. It was frustrating, and the deputies would find it a plausible explanation for Jack's behavior.

Too bad that it wasn't entirely true.

It was only noon and Jack had already cleaned his gun. Twice. He finished every last piece of paperwork that was needed between now and March. He'd even reorganized his tackle box.

What he really wanted to do was go to the Carter homestead and spend time with Miss Carter, but he knew he shouldn't. It was much too soon since the last time he visited, and if he appeared to be visiting frequently, people in town would take it the wrong way. Plus, he didn't have an excuse to give her father for why he was coming around again, now that the weather pattern had shifted and the snows had stopped.

Mrs. Fraiser would be doing Jack a huge favor if she'd stop by and request that he escort her out to the house for one of Jacob's therapy sessions. Somehow, Jack didn't think he'd be that lucky.

Having run out of things to keep his hands busy, and because pacing the floor in the sheriff's office wasn't accomplishing anything either— certainly not getting Miss Carter off his mind— he reached for his coat.

Halfway down the street on his way to Teal'c's, Jack stopped. The person on the horse was still off a ways in the distance, but he was certain he'd know the slope of her shoulders and the tilt of her head from any distance. Either that, or his mind was playing cruel tricks on him.

Jack stood for several more moments as the person on the horse drew closer. When he realized that it was Miss Carter, joy flooded his chest. Until he remembered that those feelings were decidedly one-sided, and he'd better pull it together before he made a fool of himself in front of her.

"Colonel," Sam said as she dismounted. "Good to see you. How have you been?"

"Well, thank you."

"I came into town to see if Mrs. Fraiser and Dr. Fraiser needed help in the clinic."

"Of course." She was here to visit her friend, not to see him. "I won't keep you." He began to step aside but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I need supplies also; perhaps you could help me later to load some onto my horse. Our wagon has broken again."

"I am happy to assist. I could take a look at the wagon as well."

Sam made a frustrated little sound, "I can take care of it; it's just that Father won't allow it."

"He's looking out for your reputation, perhaps."

"If I don't tell, and you don't tell, who's to know?"

He couldn't help but smirk at her logic. And suddenly he had an idea that could solve both of their problems, her wagon and his need for an excuse. "How about I come around tomorrow and we can go out to the barn together? Your father will never know it was you, and not I, that did the fixing."

Hopefully, he also would never suspect the thoughts that immediately sprung to Jack's mind at the idea of being alone with Miss Carter. If Jacob ever knew, he might send chaperones into the barn. Many many chaparones. And they all might want to keep a close eye on the dark corners of the hayloft.

Sam titled her head in consideration, and a mischievous sort of smile spread across her lips, which did very dangerous things to Jack's composure. "Colonel, you are a brilliant man!"

"I beg you, Miss, Carter, don't tell anyone. Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation."

She patted his arm, "I assure you, it will remain our secret," and turned toward the clinic.

* * *

 _January 3, 1892_

"See, this shaft connects here, but it's always slipping."

"Uh huh." Jack wasn't paying attention to a single word. He was noticing, however, her backside as she bent over on the ground and looked up at the underside of the carriage. The way her back curved and her neck stretched—no, he really needed to stop. It was wrong, and she was a friend, and damn it.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, as if scrubbing himself clean of the things he was ashamed of.

"Don't you agree?" Sam turned to look at him. Her face fell, "I'm boring you."

"What? No," Jack was quick to respond. "No, I'm just… not as smart as you are. You lost me somewhere between… something and something else."

Sam stood and brushed off her skirt, "Well, it's almost finished, and then we can go inside. Maya said she'd have warm apple cider ready for us."

He really wanted to stay out here with her as long as possible. "Why don't you show me your horses first?"

A strange expression flashed across her face before she nodded. "You've already met my Chester."

He had, on several occasions, and Sam was a good rider, one more thing he was impressed with.

"Let's see," she moved to the other end of the barn. "This is old Tally." She opened the stall and stepped inside, offering a hand to the horse, and he nuzzled it.

Jack stepped in also, "Good horse."

"Very gentle," Sam replied. Her words coming out in a quality that had Jack's blood rushing in places it shouldn't, imagining what it would be like to hear her whisper those words into his ear while he—Christ, he was a sick man. Being alone with her was stupid, not to mention torture. Why in the world was he punishing himself this way?

"Colonel?" She reached out a hand, touching his forehead. "Are you alright? You look flushed."

Jack's eyes slid shut at her touch. He didn't even realize he'd stepped closer, putting a hand on her waist and cornering her in the back of the stall. He opened them again to find her eyes wide with confusion. She honestly had no idea the depth of what he felt, and it stabbed him. Slamming into his gut the reality of the situation, she was vibrant and beautiful and he was tired and broken. She'd never, not even for a moment alone in a barn, consider kissing him. Consider him someone who was worthy of it.

"Colonel?"

He let go of her and turned. "I should go."

"Colonel?" She hurried to follow him out of the barn, where he untied his own horse. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing."

But Sam was sure there was something she'd done or said. A moment ago, when his shield was down, she'd seen disappointment in his eyes.

* * *

 _February 20, 1892_

Vala had arrived for her weeklong visit the night before, and as Sam rose early the next day, it seemed the world around her was standing still. She smiled to herself; Vala had that kind of power on nature, she had no doubt.

For weeks now, the temperatures had stayed just below freezing not allowing even a fraction of the show drifts to begin to melt. No more snow fell, no rain came, and the landscape seemed to remain locked it its current state.

Sam dressed and ate a quick breakfast in the kitchen while talking with Maya and going over the menu for the length of Vala's stay. Sam wanted to make sure they made all of Vala's favorites and didn't include anything with blackberries in it, which had caused Vala to break into terrible hives once when they were 8-year-old girls.

Maya informed Sam that her father and Mr. Jackson had already left for the reservation, and planned to return late that evening. Then, Sam took a cup of coffee with her out to the greenhouse, expecting to put in an hour or so of work in solitude before Vala finally woke for the day. Vala would surely blame her late rising on the long trip, but Sam knew any excuse would do.

She'd only begun to water the sprouts when she heard the door swing open and shut. She began to address Vala without looking up. "I'm surprised at you, up and about this early when you," Sam swung around, "could be— oh."

"I'm always up early," the colonel said.

"I didn't—I mean, I wasn't—I thought you were Vala."

"Vala?" The colonel looked around.

"Miss Mal Doran, my friend from Washington, she's in for a visit. I didn't expect her up so early given she arrived late last night."

"Ah," the colonel took off his hat and was fiddling with the brim in his hands. "I wasn't aware you had company in."

"Colonel…" She hadn't seen him in weeks, and although it was silly, she had the distinct impression he was purposely avoiding her. She'd been worrying over it and trying to work out what she'd said or done that afternoon in the barn to offend him, and she'd failed to figure it out. Other than boring him. Or maybe it was his comment about her being smart? Perhaps, like many men she'd known, that intimidated him. But she'd never gotten that impression before. The entire thing was confusing.

She was about speak when Vala made her entrance into the greenhouse as only Vala could. Her green dress showed off her figure, and her hair showcased the latest style.

"Good morning." With a grin on her face and a saunter forward, Vala slid her arm along the colonel's. "And who do we have here?"

* * *

An hour later, Sam found him near the north fence line. "I guarantee, she is quite harmless."

He raised both eyebrows at that, "Are you sure about that?"

She laughed; he did as well, and suddenly, if felt like it always had between them.

He said, "Daniel mentioned he was taking your father down south for business all day." In truth, that was only part of it. Secretly, the purpose of his visit was to prove to himself that he could be nice, friendly, neighborly, and not… other things.

Sam smiled. "Keeping me out of trouble, Sherriff?"

"Something like that."

"I'm surprised to see you." Sam spoke softly. "It seemed as if you were avoiding me."

"No." But of course, he had been. The fact that she'd noticed made him feel all the more guilty. "I've been busy with work."

"Ah." After a pause she added, "I've missed your friendship, Colonel."

He was startled for a moment, then said, "And I, yours."

Sam nodded. "Good."

He was glad to have pleased her and felt the tension between them wash away. They would be all right, and perhaps one day he would laugh over the fact that for a brief time, he considered such a silly notion as them being something more. They were friends, and good ones at that. It was more than enough.


	6. The Melt

**Part 6: The Melt**

 _April 30, 1892_

Rain drizzled down the window panes of the medical clinic in town. It was the kind of rain that would go on all day, never increasing in ferocity, but never giving up either. Inside, Sam and Janet were preparing the examination room for the next patient while Dr. Frasier finished up some work in his office down the hall.

Sam was not paying attention. Even as a child, she was not the type to have her mind wander off to silly topics instead of staying focused on the task at hand. She knew she should be focused on what she was doing, in the very least because Janet might notice and question her. And yet, she could not stop thinking about Colonel O'Neill.

It wasn't like they were courting. It wasn't as if the colonel ever brought Sam flowers or chocolates, certainly didn't quote her poetry (she'd probably laugh if he tried). The one and only letter the colonel had written was because he came down with a cold and couldn't come by to take a look at the sitting room lamp that had stopped working (continuing their game, as it was Sam who would do the repair once they were out of her father's eyesight). Jack sent a note with Janet to apologize and say he'd be around in a day or two, once he was feeling better. It was devoid of even the slightest hint of anything romantic.

And yet.

There were little, unusual things. The way the colonel looked at her when she laughed. The fact that he spent time visiting with her father when Jacob was feeling low because the weather was bothering his knee. Colonel O'Neill asked after her garden, teased her occasionally, and told stories that she often wondered if he'd ever told anyone else.

Except, perhaps his wife. The one he still loved and missed and even in death vowed never to betray by loving another.

Sam's heart ached for him, as it did every time she thought of the devastation he must have gone through. How he couldn't bear to even touch another woman, so much did he love his wife—

Wait a minute. Sam's brow crinkled.

"Is something wrong, Miss Carter?"

Sam had all but forgotten Janet was in the room.

"Oh." She stumbled over her words. "No, nothing's wrong."

A memory resurfaced for the first time in many months, a sight that Sam had almost forgotten, the image of Jack O'Neill coming out of the back rooms of the saloon. But Sam pushed it aside once again, as it was none of her business.

The two women finished their tasks just as the doctor came back into the examination room with his next patient. On the way out, Sam glanced back to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing, especially given her thoughts over the last several minutes. But the way the woman was dressed and her makeup it was clear what her profession was. Sam had never known any of them to visit a doctor; well, perhaps if they were with child. Such was her experience in her grandfather's clinic in Washington.

Janet must had noticed Sam looking at the woman, for as they walked down the hall to the back sitting room, Janet patted Sam's arm and explained the situation, that the colonel met with the saloon women on a regular basis.

"He makes sure they're getting fair treatment, not being harmed or cheated. He also makes sure that taxes on the saloon are collected and a portion of it goes toward the clinic expenses here, if needed."

"I had no idea," Sam said, more to herself than for Janet's sake.

"And I'm sure that was very much the intention. The colonel isn't known for doing things for the fame and fortune of it." Janet put the sheet from the examining table into the laundry basket. "Unlike Mr. McKay, the new banker to town. Have you met him? I can't believe…"

Janet's words played over her like a breeze, comforting on a warm day, but not noticed. Sam was instead deeply involved, once again, in her own confused thoughts.

As every day passed, it seemed she saw further under the facade that Colonel O'Neill wore. He was so much more than the tough, grouchy, military man that he portrayed to all. He hid his softer kinder side quite well. The side that Sam was having an increasingly difficult time ignoring, and she felt she wanted— though she had no idea how— to show her appreciation and admiration for it.

If he were a female friend she could give a gift, or write a note, or some other gesture. But all of those were inappropriate for her to bestow on the colonel without him thinking… well, unless he were courting her and then… And it always somehow came back to that. Being allowed to return his smile, but nothing more, never seemed enough.

They were friends, and Sam was sure of it. After all the times she had gone through the motions with other men, finally calling things off because it became clear they held her in more affection than she could ever return, it was a cruel that this time, the opposite appeared to be true.

* * *

 _June 2, 1892_

Jack O'Neill hated paperwork. He'd accepted this job because he envisioned himself out on the streets, or breaking up bar fights, or on his worst days, negotiating between two farmers arguing over the location of the line between their two properties. He never imagined all the paperwork, and if he had, he probably wouldn't have taken the job. No matter how convincing Mr. Jackson's urging had been.

Truth be told, he was finding that paperwork— or in this case going back over case files, so it was technically re-doing paperwork that was already done— was significantly less painful of a task when a beautiful woman was helping him out. He cleared his throat, in an attempt to steer away from places that such thoughts might lead.

"Find anything?" Miss Carter asked, glancing up from the file she was reading. She'd obviously mistaken his throat-clearing for something else.

"No, no," he covered the blunder. "I think I'm in need of more coffee."

"I'll see to it."

"No, I—" Didn't mean to have her wait on him. But of course Miss Carter would, like she was taught to do, probably in some fancy ladies' school out east.

She'd come into town for some other reason— he can't remember what she told him— and when she stopped in the sheriff's office briefly, Jack happened to be going over the paperwork for her father's case. It was coincidence, although he went back over the case often enough that the odds of anyone catching him at it weren't all that long. And then she'd insisted on staying and helping. He hadn't even pretended to resist the idea, and that's when Deputy Mitchell suspiciously disappeared for the rest of the afternoon.

Now here he was, alone with Miss Carter, which was highly improper. Though he found himself not caring as much as he should about her reputation and his honor. And she was serving him coffee as if—

"What does that say there?" Sam set down the coffee and leaned in closer over his shoulder to get a better view of the report Jack was reading. Supposedly reading.

"What?" Jack asked, because his brain was _so_ not on reports right now. This was getting close to the barn incident. The one he had erased from his memory. Mostly.

"That says you examined the clothing my father was wearing."

"Yes." He could maybe get through this if she required only one-word answers from him.

"It says you found bits of a flower or plant on his shirt."

"Yes." So far, so good.

"Do you remember what kind?"

She stood up, and Jack breathed again. She glanced at him, and he gave her a shrug. "Is it important?" he asked, because knowing Miss Carter, she was probably way ahead of him on something.

"Well, theoretically," Sam began, and her eyes brightened up in that way that Jack liked so much. "If the plant was rare and only found growing in certain areas, with Willow Song's help, we might be able to narrow down where the kidnappers took my father and kept him during that week. Perhaps finding the scene might uncover more clues as to the kidnapper's identities."

She was brilliant, well, about everything else except the one thing Jack hoped she'd never figured out.

"That's good, Miss Carter." And it was, but there was just one tiny little problem. "I know nothing about plants, and I don't know what kind it was."

"That, I can help with." She grinned. "See, I told you we'd make a great team."

* * *

 _June 24, 1892_

For weeks Jack O'Neill made his way out to the Carter homestead and spent long hours in the greenhouse and the garden with Miss Carter looking at plant after plant. She'd made him examine the petals, the leaves, and God forbid, the spores.

It wasn't working. All of them looked about the same to him, and he highly doubted he could correctly identify the plant. And then there was always the good chance that even if he could identify it, it would end up being something that grew everywhere. If it were anyone else giving him lectures on arugula, he would have put an end to this days ago. Hell, weeks ago.

Today, he'd managed to convince Miss Carter to take a break mid-morning and go on a walk, and if she were lucky he'd teach her how to fish. She agreed, but only once he promised to get back to plant examinations in an hour.

"I must admit," Sam glanced sideways at the colonel, "I have my doubts about this."

"Doubts?" he mocked as if she'd wounded his self-esteem. "How can you possibly have doubts? It's the greatest of all pastimes."

"Hmm," she replied, sitting down at the river's edge. He dropped the fishing rods he'd brought with in the grass.

"You cannot judge until you've given it a chance, Miss Carter."

"Fair enough."

* * *

An hour later, they sat in companionable silence after the colonel had shown her how to cast her line, and Sam got the hang of it quickly. The silence allowed thoughts to creep into Sam's mind, warnings that sounded suspiciously like they were in Lady Langford's voice, and then a counter-argument in Vala's. Somewhere in the middle of it was Janet's voice, telling Sam to remember that both head and heart had equal measure.

Sam set her pole aside and lay back on the blanket to look up at the puffy white clouds passing slowly.

"That one looks like a spoon," she said, pointing up.

Jack leaned back as well, to see what she was seeing. "No, more like Mr. Zelenka's pet pigeon, Dolly."

She giggled. "That man and his pigeon! What is it?"

"I've always suspected he slept with it at night."

"Eww," Sam replied, but still laughing despite her apparent disgust. And for some reason that Sam would never be able to explain, the moment he began to smile, she leaned over and kissed him. It was brief and only a peck on the lips, but it caused both of them to freeze. A lady never did such a thing so bold, and Sam was certain he'd be appalled at her behavior.

She was quick to move away from him in panic, "I— I didn't mean—"

But he cut off her apology by putting a hand behind her head, drawing her over him and meeting her lips again. This time the kiss was lingering and careful. His other hand was suddenly at her back, pulling her body even closer against his own.

Sam whimpered, wanting more, but unsure how to convey that to him when she couldn't speak, not with his tongue sliding along her lower lip.

"Miss Carter," he breathed out, as his lips left hers to move to her jaw line. "Tell me to stop."

"No." She sounded almost panicked, and it made Jack smile.

"Colonel, please…" She wasn't entirely sure what she was requesting of him, but a big part of it was not stopping what he was doing. To keep drawing out the things he was awaking inside of her.

He said somberly, "I think I need to speak to your father." In his expression, she saw his fears that she might not want to hear those words. "Or if you don't—"

"Yes, yes, I do," she said, her hands at the back of his neck tugged slightly, encouraging him to lean in again.

Thus, not only did plant examinations get ignored, but very a little fishing was done that day. Not that the colonel complained.

And as for Sam's part, she was going to leave this particular incident out of her next letter to Lady Langford.


	7. The Shapes of Leaves

**Part 7: The Shapes of Leaves**

 _June 25, 1892_

Samantha Carter was positive she'd lost all her senses. And whenever she attempted to think, it deteriorated quickly into musings about Colonel O'Neill's hands. While he did have amazing hands, she damn well was never going to admit to anyone that her thoughts were tangled up in daydreaming about a man.

She didn't know what had come over her these last two days, since what happened along the shore of the river with the colonel yesterday. When she thought back on it with logic and reason, the fact was she still liked it was, well… she should be mortified, or something. Should be feeling anything other than what she was feeling. And worse was that words and phrases Vala used were the types of things that could easily describe these feelings Sam wasn't willing to admit to.

Perhaps because of the distraction, or maybe to show the world that she was capable of being more than some woman swooning over a man, she did something bold and independent and possibly a bit too foreword.

In retrospect, Sam should have taken the information directly to the colonel or to her father. She'd never be able to explain why she didn't think something terrible might happen. Why she believed that the vile man would confess everything, apologize, and go turn himself in to the law. Why she thought herself perfectly capable of handling a situation that most ladies would never dream of attempting.

Nevertheless when she found the evidence in between the pages of a book in her father's library, Sam approached Mr. Henry Ball on her own. Nobody else was in the office at the train station when she showed him the telegraph he'd transcribed and delivered to Jacob from Washington.

It was how the criminals knew of Jacob's undercover mission, Sam was sure of it. And the fact was only confirmed when Mr. Ball grabbed her, tied her up, and put her into the back of is wagon, then drove her off into the woods.

In retrospect, she should have seen that coming.

* * *

 _June 27, 1892_

When Sam woke, her first thought was of the blue flax growing next to the tree they had tied her to. Perhaps that was the plant the colonel couldn't identify? It was an odd notion, given the circumstances, and she shook her head, her vision blurring for a moment before coming back into focus. She was on the edge of some kind of camp. There were a few tents, a fire pit, a clothesline. She could hear voices.

"You'll get 20 percent, and you'll be happy with it."

"Enough," a stern voice cut off the bickering. "The in-fighting will be the downfall of us all if we're not careful."

A timid voice asked, "What do we do while we wait for Neubus?"

"I will question the woman," the stern voice replied.

"But, shouldn't we wait—?"

He came over to her; the others hung back, and between their distance and the glow of the campfire backlighting them she couldn't make out their faces. But he, the one with the stern voice, was more than frightening enough.

With the back of his hand, he smacked her across the mouth. "Tell me what your father knows."

Sam blinked back tears. "Nothing."

He hit her again. "The sheriff has files; where does he hide them away at night? The safe? His rooms above?"

"I don't know."

The man halted his hand, and a dark gleam grew on his face. "You don't know? But you and the colonel seem to be very… intimate."

The rest of the gang laughed. That was the moment Sam's resolve strengthened. If they honestly believed that insulting her honor and insinuating things about the colonel's character was the way to break her…

"Yes we are," she spoke clearly, and the laughter suddenly died. "And believe me, Colonel O'Neill is such a man of passion that he will not hold back when he finds all of you. If you were smart, you wouldn't hurt someone so precious to a man like that."

She was hit again in response, but Sam blocked it all out then, going into some kind of internal space where none of them existed and she couldn't feel pain. Her own words replayed, and she knew the truth had been there all along. She'd simply been too afraid to see it, accept it, believe in it.

And now that she had faced it, the irony was, it wasn't all that scary. It was, instead, the one thing she could put her faith in when life handed down something that truly was frightening.

She should have come to the colonel; he would have listened. He might wish to protect her and put forth some token resistance, but every time he'd compromised with her in the end. The search parties for her father, working on the case, fixing the wagon, he had understood all along that they were better together, as a team, than either of them were separately. He'd been trying to teach her that lesson, and she'd been unwilling to see it, until now. No matter what came in life, to have a partner of equal footing to share the burdens and the glories, that was a gift. One that she was far overdue in expressing gratitude for.

As each blow to her body came, Sam felt the layers of resistance and fear and self-reliance and misconception fall away. By the time the men grew bored and wandered off, leaving her slumped against the tree, what was left of Sam was a woman she never thought she'd be. A woman in love.

* * *

 _June 28, 1892_

Sam had no idea the direction in which she'd been traveling; all that she was capable of understanding for the last half-hour was the instinct to run. Now as she grew overwhelmed, she could hear rustling behind her. No longer able to continue, she knew whoever it was would catch up.

Sam crawled into some bushes, placing a leafy branch found on the forest floor on top of her hiding spot. She froze all movements and slowed her breathing as much as possible.

Peering out between two leaves, she could make out a silhouette in the starlight. Either her tired mind was playing tricks on her, or he'd come for her, like she knew he would. The man turned, and she gasped.

"Colonel," she whispered and watched him twirl around, trying to place the direction he heard her voice coming from.

"Miss Carter?"

"Colonel, I'm over here."

He raced to her side, pulling her up and into his arms. She stifled a sob and clung to him. "Sam," he murmured into her ear, while running his hands over her back and down her arms, either looking for injury or simply trying to convince himself she was real. Her clothes were in tatters, but she seemed in one piece.

"I got away," she said. "But they are searching."

"I know. We heard gunshots."

"It was blue flax," Sam knew she was rambling, probably making no sense.

"Um, OK."

"They got drunk and passed out, that's when I…"

"Good." He placed kisses on her cheeks; one was swollen, but that didn't stop her from wanting more.

"My father?"

"He's fine. When Chester came into town without a rider, we knew…" His voice broke, "I thought—"

"I'm fine." But even so, he drew back. What Sam saw in his eyes broke her. Tears escaped down her cheeks. "I swear to you, other than a few bruises, I am fine."

"If they–" He couldn't choke the words out. Sam knew that if they had touched her in any way inappropriate for a lady, Jack was the sort of man who would kill them with his bare hands, not waiting for any justice. Despite the badge he wore. "Sam…"

Understanding, she touched his cheek, shaking her head. "No. I remain untouched until I am yours." He pulled her into a tight hug.

After several moments of holding her close, caressing her, placing soft kisses in her hair, Jack finally cleared his throat of thick emotions. He tucked Sam's head against his shoulder, and lifted her into his arms. "Jimmy Dugan's farm is only a half a mile. We'll get you there first, then I can borrow a horse and get you to the clinic."

"I said, I am unharmed."

But she didn't have much strength to put insistence behind her words. Right now, it felt good to simply wind her arms around the colonel's neck, breathe in his scent and allow him to take care of her. To take care of everything. He had all her faith and trust. It wasn't until later, much later, that Sam finally told Jack all of her revelations, but at the time all she could think was how right it felt to be in his arms.


	8. Sunrise and Shadow

**Part 8: Sunrise and Shadow**

 _July 8, 1892_

"Father?" Sam descended the stairs and found him at his desk in the study. "Did I hear voices?"

All the windows and doors were open, in a vain attempt to capture any cool breeze through the house. But her father appeared unusually cool.

"Sam, you should remain in bed."

She was growing annoyed with everyone treating her as if she lost limbs. A few scrapes and bruises and one twisted ankle was not enough to stay in bed in Sam's opinion. So far, she was putting up with those of differing opinion because she knew her loved ones had had quite a scare. She wasn't ready to start arguments on the heels of that.

"I will return to it soon. But I thought I heard—"

"Colonel O'Neill stopped by." Her father didn't look up from his ledgers as he spoke, nor did his tone indicate anything unusual.

"Oh? What for?" Sam asked, as if she had absolutely no idea why the colonel might be speaking with her father. There'd been no time for the colonel to ask her father for permission to court her before the terrible ordeal had happened, but now more than a week had passed since. Plenty of time.

"Various things…" Jacob turned a page. "He asked how you were feeling."

"He did?" Sam sat at the chair opposite her father's desk and looked him over curiously. For someone who'd just been discussing his daughter's future, Jacob appeared to be completely unaffected.

"Yes, and also wanted to let you know that the Frasiers now have a baby girl."

"I missed it." Sam sank further into the chair.

Jacob glanced up at her. "I wasn't aware of your sudden fondness for babies. I thought you always said—"

"People change." Sam cut him off, and instantly regretted taking out her irritation on her father. It wasn't his fault that Colonel O'Neill was an obtuse oaf. "I meant to say, that it's different when it's my dearest friend who has given birth."

Jacob's expression shifted for a moment. "I thought Vala was your dearest friend."

It startled Sam. "She is, of course."

"Hmm." Her father returned to his books.

* * *

 _July 31, 1892_

As Daniel finished his story, the Frasiers and Jacob laughed. Teal'c expressed nothing more than a serene smile. Sam, who hardly heard the tale due to being involved in her own thoughts, looked up and forced a chuckle simply to fit in and not raise anyone's awareness.

A group of children passed in a game of tag, and once they went by, the town mayor, Mr. Hammond, approached their picnic table. He needed to speak with Mr. Frasier and Mr. Carter, so the men together moved off to have their discussion. Sam knew that a big town hall vote was coming next week, something about the rates and policies at the new bank that some felt were unfair. Mr. McKay, bank owner and manager, was of course insisting that no one was smart enough to understand the mathematics behind it, and they should simply trust he was right.

Once they left, Janet turned the discussion to teasing Daniel about Willow Song. There was something extra in the spirit of Janet Frasier, and Sam suspected it had much to do with the little bundle in her arms, and the fact that this was the first outing for Janet since giving birth to Cassandra.

Other gossip and news was exchanged, but Sam couldn't stay interested in any topic for more than a few minutes. Her eyes looked over the crowd in attendance at the Sunday afternoon church picnic. Everyone in town was there. Everyone but one, it appeared.

"Sam?" Janet asked.

"Yes," Sam turned her head back to the group before her. She didn't miss the look that passed between Daniel and Janet. The fact that Teal'c sat there, completely unassuming, instantly made him Sam's new favorite.

"You OK?"

Sam replied quickly, "Sure." Probably too quickly. The fact that she hadn't seen Jack O'Neill in two weeks and suspected now that he was avoiding town functions in his apparent need to avoid her, well, that had nothing to do with anything.

"It is a shame that Colonel O'Neill is out of town," Teal'c said, while lifting one of Janet's special seasoned fried chicken drumsticks. "He would have enjoyed this fine food, Mrs. Frasier."

Out of town? Sam's mind raced with the news. She hadn't known, and part of her wondered if that was exactly why Teal'c had mentioned it.

Janet took the words out of Sam's mouth, "Thanks, Mr. Teal'c."

"However," the blacksmith continued, "in O'Neill's absence, it means more for us."

Janet snorted. Daniel glanced sideways at the big guy, then back to Janet. "Ah, yeah, thanks, Mrs. Frasier."

"You're more than welcome, but Miss Carter made the potato salad."

"Brought." Sam replied automatically. "Maya made it."

"Brought," Janet corrected herself. "Still, it was nice, honey."

Sam was having no more of this… game, or whatever it was they were all playing. "Why is the colonel out of town, and where did he go?"

There was an uncomfortable silence for a second before Daniel said, "He went to Denver… to testify in court."

"Oh."

"He didn't want us to tell you, Sam."

"And why not?"

Janet said, "We assumed you'd know why."

"Right," Sam covered her disappointment and anger by biting into her chicken. "Of course I know why."

* * *

 _August 19, 1892_

Jack encouraged the horse, but it was done pushing on for the day. It was time to admit that they should stop for the night.

One more night away, when it had already been weeks longer than Jack had expected to be gone. It seemed the trial would never end. But Jack was determined to watch the men responsible for hurting Sam be convicted of their crimes.

He hadn't counted on the fact that it wasn't just the crimes committed against the Carters. These men had a whole list of things the government wanted them held accountable for, and thus, the trial seemed to go on forever. Far longer than the couple of days or a week that Jack had planned to be gone for. He couldn't imagine at this point what Sam must think, and once again, Jack questioned the wisdom in making Jacob promise not to say a word to his daughter before Jack returned.

His mind drifted back, as it often had over these long weeks, to that afternoon spent fishing. Jack could still picture Sam's eyes, and the hunger and passion there. Even the mere memory was enough to made his heart slam harder in his chest. It was more than he'd ever hoped for, that one day she might see him as more than a friend. But this? Sharing in his desire too, this was beyond his dreams come true.

At the roadhouse, Jack turned his horse over to the stable boy and went inside for some supper, a stiff drink, a room for the night. He reached into his pocket to pull out money to pay the proprietor, and for a moment, his fingers closed around something else in his pocket. It was the other important reason he'd traveled to Denver, and it was equally responsible for him being so anxious to get home.

* * *

A/N: almost done! :)


	9. The View From the Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Final chapter! Thanks to all of you who are still here! I appreciate the support and hope you've enjoyed this.

**Part 9: The View From the Mountain**

 _August 22, 1892_

"I don't know about this, Janet." Sam nervously smoothed down the front of her skirt.

Janet had been listening to Sam's concerns and excuses all morning. She was not going to take another minute of this ridiculousness. Now that the colonel was home, this misunderstanding could easily be resolved if two stubborn people simply talked to each other.

Janet swung open the front door to the sheriff's office. Across the room, Jack's eyes locked onto Sam's, full of panic.

"Sam, leave. Now."

He'd never called her anything but the proper 'Miss Carter' in mixed company, and it seemed Sam's mind could process nothing further than that puzzle alone. Thus, she did not immediately obey, nor did she see the man standing off to her left holding a gun on the sheriff and deputy Lorne.

"Get inside!" the gunman shouted.

It was Janet who moved first, swinging the door shut. And when the gunman added, "Lock the door," she followed that instruction as well.

"Look," Jack said sternly. "They're not involved in this. Let them go."

"You let my friends go first."

"I told you, I have no control over that. They are in jail in Denver.""

Sam's brain finally caught up, and she realized this man must be the 'Neubus' the rest of the gang was talking about that night in the woods.

Neubus swung the gun to Sam and Janet. Janet gasped quietly, but neither woman made any other outward indication of fear.

Sam watched Jack's eyes turn hard, angry, dangerous. "It's me that you want, Neubus." He took a step forward.

"Don't come closer," Neubus replied. "Or the women will get it." Jack took another step in defiance to the words. "I mean it!" Another step.

Neubus swung the gun back and squeezed the trigger. His aim was off the first time, but the second hit Jack in the shoulder.

"No," Sam shouted, shifting as if she were about to move to Jack's side, but the gun was back on her.

"I said, don't move! Why can't you all listen?" He shot widely again, missing Sam but apparently catching Janet. Sam heard Janet fall back against the wall, but didn't dare turn and look. A couple of tears burst loose; Sam took a breath and fought against any further distraction.

"I'll go to Denver with you!" Sam insisted. "I'll go with you, we'll get your friends out of jail. Leave these people here. We don't need them."

Neubus lowered the gun slightly.

Sam continued. "I'm the one that they took, it was my witness report that put them in jail. If we go up there, I will take it back. I will say I made a mistake."

"You're that Carter lady?" Neubus started to smile now, in a way that made Sam very uncomfortable. But she also saw out of the corner of her eye that while Neubus was distracted with Sam, Lorne was inching his way toward his desk. She didn't know what the plan was, but she knew there was a plan. Her job now became distracting Neubus long enough for Lorne to do whatever it was he was doing.

"Yes, I am Miss Carter."

Neubus leared, "Pretty little one, ain't you?"

"I'll go with you to Denver. You can leave these people here to get medical treatment."

"Well, well." Neubus stepped closer to her. "Won't say I'd mind a nice long trip with a sweet thing like you."

Sam saw only a blur, and then a loud noise rang out, and Neubus slumped to the ground. Sam turned to see Lorne with has his pistol still aimed, and he put three more shots in Neubus, two in the heart and one in the head.

* * *

 _August 23, 1892_

It was hours later when Dr. Frasier finally allowed anyone to enter surgery room 2, and at the door Jacob hung back, nodding to Sam to go ahead; he seemed content to remain outside the room but nearby.

Jack was sitting on the bed, pulling on a clean shirt. When he looked up at Sam, his eyes were fatigued, but clear and focused.

"Hi," he said, a bit of a crooked smile appeared.

She crossed the room and lingered near the edge of the bed, unsure. "Janet's going to pull through."

"That's good." His hand moved across the sheet and his fingers brushed a pleat in her skirt. "You OK?"

"Fine." Damn, she did not want to cry in front of him. "When he… when I thought…"

Jack stood up. "C'mere." He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. Warmth sprang inside her as the hug went on and on, and she put her head on his shoulder.

"Sam," he whispered into her neck, his lips close to her skin. Sam's eyes slid shut, squeezing out some tears in the process, but she didn't care as much suddenly. It felt so good to be there, in the space she shared with him, knowing he was alive and because of that alone, there was still a chance for a shared future.

"I couldn't protect you," his voice caught. Sam was pretty sure he meant it in a grander way, not only today's events.

"It will always be you first instinct." Sam lifted her head from his shoulder in order to meet his eyes. "And that's good, so long as shortly thereafter, you remember the rest."

He nodded.

"Jack." She swallowed back more emotion. "Please go speak with my father." She'd beg if she had to, no matter how unladylike.

"Well, I would…" He caressed a hand down her cheek, regretting the worry in her expression. "But why would I ask permission to court you? If before I left for Denver I already asked and was granted your hand in marriage."

"You…" Happiness flooded her face.

"If you'll have me?"

"Yes." Then suddenly her eyes darkened. "You let me believe you'd changed your mind." She smacked him on the shoulder playfully, and despite that, she still wore a smile.

"Yeah, about that…"

But she didn't give him chance to form a proper apology; his mouth was otherwise engaged.

* * *

 _October 31, 1892_

"Leave it to your father to dress as General George Washington for Halloween," Jack griped. "He likely thinks that he and the General are one and the same." Only recently had it begun to set in that Jacob was to become his father-in-law. It was the one fatal flaw in having won Sam's love.

Sam stifled a chuckle. "Stop it."

"The rifle isn't loaded, is it?"

"You're dressed as a sheriff, and I don't think that should be allowed."

Jack glanced down at the clothes he wore just about every day. "I thought the point of Halloween was to dress up as something you're not. And you always said I'm a very inadequate sheriff."

"Only the one time."

She looked up at Jack, knowing that all the jokes and misdirection were his way. But they'd faced everything together and made it; this would be no different.

"Come," she tugged his arm a little, and he followed her out the back door of the hall. They left the music, dancing, costumes, and Halloween candy behind. She began to walk, with her arm in his, and at first he seemed to simply give in to her wish for an escape into the cool night air. Until he suddenly recognized where they were headed.

He halted. "No, Sam."

"But you go every year. Daniel told me."

He looked away from her. After a long moment he said, "That was before."

"Before?" She stepped around to face him once again. "You've never once asked me to change who I am to be with you. How could I not do the same for you?"

"I'm not sure…"

"But I am," Sam took his hand, and he had no choice to continue to walk beside her. They arrived at the little cemetery, and as the gate swung open, the creak of the hinges was the only sound in the still air.

"Which way?" Sam asked. He led her over to a corner, near a lilac bush. Sam crouched down and traced her fingers along the inscription on the headstone.

"Hi, Sara," Sam spoke softly. Then she paused, having no idea what to say next. This woman had been so much a part of shaping the man who would now become her husband. And Sam wondered, briefly, if the situation were reversed, what she'd want to know. "I promise to take good care of him."

She stood, and before she had a chance to turn, Jack's arms came around her from behind. He buried her head in her hair, and though he was silent, she knew there were tears. She stood there, and would continue to stand for as long as he needed her to, as Jack leaned on her.

After a while, his lips found her neck, placing kisses behind her earlobe. "Thank you," he whispered. The arms around her squeezed and released, and she turned to face him.

"No, thank you."

He was clearly confused. "For what?"

Being patient, giving in, teaching her, loving her, and so much more, she wasn't sure where to even begin. "For everything."

* * *

So it was said that Lady Langford was right after all, for when Samantha Carter finally found the right one, she was in quite a hurry to marry her beloved and get on with sharing her life with him. And Lady Langford never failed to remind Sam of that fact every year on the O'Neill's wedding anniversary, for many happy years to come.


End file.
